


The Cards

by pergolily



Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 14:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18100040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pergolily/pseuds/pergolily
Summary: ✨🔮 part of a which au series bc @fransheffield has ruined me 🔮✨Grace isn't thrilled with her daughters latest boyfriend and does a tarot spread to see if it will last, but learns something about Coyote instead.





	The Cards

Then

 

Grace slinked away from the dinner table as Robert and Sol began to gather the plates. This dinner was never going to be enjoyable, but it had been made all the worse by Frankie's persistent jokes about them being in-laws. Grace didn't laugh. Mallory had chided her for it but she didn't know what she was doing, her youngest daughter was, well, young, she didn't know what she needed. Her mother knew what she needed. But despite Grace's daily comments about Mal's lazy, hippy, ridiculous boyfriend, she wouldn't listen. Frankie, however, was loving it. Little Coyote's and Mallory's running around with ugly names and living in a yurt on the beach. Not exactly the life Grace had envisioned for her little girl.

Heels clacking softly across the wooden floor, Grace wandered into the godforsaken meditation room. Laden with Frankie and Sol's trademark décor, the walls heaved tapestries and beads, shelves of crystals and turquoise, and a frankly unsettling amount of phallic sculpture. The bookshelves were untidy and uncoordinated and Grace wanted nothing more than to tear them down and put them back up again, but that would have to wait. She straightened herself and adjusted her black dinner dress, “Where are you then?” Surprisingly, it didn't take long. The battered 'Beginners Divination' volume was crammed on the top shelf, the purple fabric of the spine peeling out to greet her. Divination was far from Grace's speciality. The tight-faced blonde thought it a lesser form of magic to her, far more practical, skills in protection. But Frankie's face never did spring to mind when she thought of practicality. Her frivolous dabbling in divination might prove useful to her now though...

“Grace?” Quickly shoving the book back on the shelf she whipped round to find the poster girl for dirty hippies in the doorway.

“Frankie,” she grinned without it meeting her eyes, “I was just... admiring your collection. Though these could do with a little TLC, you know. I know a great restorer.”

Frankie shrugged, fabric rippling and beads jangling. “Books are meant to be read, Grace, not looked at.” The same embittered grin stretched across both of their faces now.

“There won't be anything left of them to read if you carry on like that.”

“Do you actually read your books? Or do you put them behind glass and stick them up on the wall so they stay pristine and useless?”

Grace hummed a laugh. “Did you want something, Frankie?”

Frankie was quickly distracted, lolling a hand back to the dining room. “Our children want to announce their impending marriage.” Grace's heart leapt into her mouth. Frankie smirked. “Robert is bringing the car around.” Grace's eyes narrowed at the mass of cotton and crystals. “Nice to see you, Grace, as always.”

“You too, Frankie.” The farewell came through gritted teeth. Once she had turned her back Grace whipped the divination text from off the shelf and stuffed it under her wrap. She would bring it back. Maybe.

 

* * * * *

 

“Goodnight, dear.” Robert snapped his glasses closed and lifted himself off the couch. Soon enough Grace had the living room to herself. Flicking on the lamp she lugged the shabby book out onto the coffee table and carefully peeled her scarf from around it. The yellowed pages were stained with tea, crumbs pressed into the leaves, and ingrained with the smell of what Grace could only assume was pot. Frankie's notes in the margins were a mix of pencil and glitter gel pen, and almost all were completely illegible. It took four martinis just to get through the first chapter.

Grace had no fear that Robert would catch her. He probably hadn't even noticed she didn't come to bed. By 5am she was still pouring over the final chapters, forcing herself through and trying to hold onto as much information as her sleep-deprived mind could bear. She was at saturation point. But every time her head dropped to her chest her half-dreams were tainted with the image of Mallory with dreadlocks and a tribe of unwashed children. Her head snapped up with a shiver, and she kept reading.

Her perfect cursive lined the notebook beside her, propped on the couch cushion and preparing her for the task at hand. By the time she had turned the last page Grace had reems of notes on all divination systems, from tea leaves to runes, to bones and cards. The book advised her to find a method that attracted her. Cards were an easy choice. She decided to leave the animal remains and plant matter to Frankie. The book also advised her to have a clear head, good intentions, and a desire to learn from the practice. She didn't listen so much to that part.

An old stack of cards Frankie gave her as a gift a hundred years ago were still sat in the bottom of a dresser drawer, dust clinging to the plastic. This probably wasn't what she had in mind when encouraged Grace into divination, but even if the cards told her she shouldn't be thinking of this she would have no problem simply rearranging the spread. Cards unpacked and shuffled, Grace settled back into the couch with another drink as the sun began to edge over the horizon, streaking pink and blue behind the outline of the trees in the yard. Robert would be up for work soon. She had an hour left, max. Time to get to work. Grace had a renewed energy about her as one hand traced her notes and another leafed through the cards. Each one laid flat with a snap under the blue light filtering through the room. Testing the most basic spreads and noting the results, performing each one five or six times before upping the anti to a more complex layout. Each spread showed the same, more or less, but she had to be sure. Pushing down her excitement, Grace committed to the facts. Before long the coffee table was cleared, books thrown into the side of the couch or on the floor, coasters thrown on the rug, with Grace kneeling before it. One by one, fifteen cards found their place, fleshing out the path before Mallory and Coyote, and their blissfully doomed relationship. Grace sighed, smiled, and sipped her drink, letting her eyes wander over the cards now shining in the full sun coming through the windows. Should she be so happy that her daughters relationship would fail? And in such a way? Grace wasn't asking herself that question right now. All she felt was a deep, warming relief that she'd never have to call Coyote Bergstein her son-in-law.

Then something occurred to her. A fresh reading in a card she had seen come up over and over again. The reason for the end of their relationship? Coyote and his persistent drug habit. But it wasn't the central card this time, the one that fortold their future. From this spread his drug using seemed to ripple out far beyond their relationship. There was something coming for him, for all of them, that would make his behaviour more public than anyone wanted it to be. For a fleeting moment Grace felt for him, but pressing her glass to her lips again she mumbled hoarsely to the morning, “Maybe this will be the wake up call they all need.”

 

* * * * *

 

With only half an hour of sleep and three coffees in her system, Grace jumped into her car and headed across town. A brief detour before clocking in at the office. “Grace?” Frankie answered the door in what had to be pajamas (please, let them be pajamas.) Grace froze, hunched over on the doorstep with the book in her arms and a fake note from Robert explaining the books absence. “You OK down there?” She still hadn't stood up. “Fine.” Her voice was too bright. “Just – just returning this.” The note scrunched in her hand and was stuffed back into her pocket. “Thought I would see what was so good about it all. Not much, as it turns out.” Frankie's eyes narrowed, reaching out for the book. “You know, you could've just asked instead of stealing.” “I didn't want you thinking I'd ever actually listen to you.” “But you did.” That irritatingly knowing smile started to creep across her features, Frankie's head beginning to nod, too self-satisfied for Grace's liking. “It was still ridiculous. You can keep it. I have to get to work. Goodbye, Frankie.” Suspicion stared out through strands of grey hair as Grace pulled out of the driveway. She didn't feel like warning Frankie about what she'd seen. It wasn't like she would do anything about it anyway, she hadn't up until now, so why would that change? Grace drove toward the city with a satisfied smile. Mallory would be fine. And Coyote, and his mother, would learn a lesson.


End file.
